


I want my dad

by Pahasotaherra



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:37:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pahasotaherra/pseuds/Pahasotaherra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wound fever is making young Sinbad delirious and miss his deceased father greatly. Hinahoho wants to ease Sinbad’s pain and acts as a father replacement for his sick friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want my dad

They had barely made it this time.

Several bandits had surprised them in a forest only a few kilometres away from the town they had been heading to, and because of their exhausted state and empty stomachs those bandits almost had managed to finish them off. Drakon had been knocked senseless right at the beginning and the rest of the battle had been quite difficult since in addition to attacking and defending themselves they had been forced to protect their unconscious comrade from a surge of arrows and magic attacks. In the end, Baal’s lightning had saved their lives once again (although this time only just) and they had hurried to the nearby town to find shelter and get their wounds treated. The situation was stable now. Even though the local doctor who had treated them had ordered all of them to rest Hinahoho had found himself alone at their inn’s restaurant/bar without a single comrade of his in sight. Ja’far had already hit the books (apparently he was desperate to learn about state affairs and politics), Masrur had climbed a nearby tree and insisted on sleeping up there, Drakon had disappeared somewhere (probably to find a quiet place for sulking and mourning his “incompetence” in that battle) and Sinbad was sleeping upstairs. The dungeon capturer had caught a nasty wound fever due to that unfortunate fight. Hinahoho sipped his drink, wondering if he should go check on the poor boy soon. Ever since becoming a father he’d started expressing some kind of “fatherly concern” towards his travelling companions too, probably because he wasn’t able to be with his own family at the moment. His friends were still so young. Ja’far and Masrur were only children and even though Sinbad and Drakon were young adults now they looked like fragile teenage boys in Hinahoho’s eyes. The age difference between Hinahoho, Sinbad and Drakon wasn’t huge but after Hinahoho had been blessed with children of his own a certain level of maturity had found its way into the way he observed the world. It was a cruel world they lived in and Hinahoho felt sorrowful because his friends had neither a family nor a home to return to.

Hinahoho put down his empty pint and headed upstairs. They had booked two rooms: one for Masrur and Ja’far (the “kids”) and one for Drakon, Sinbad and Hinahoho (the “adults”). Sinbad was obviously sleeping in the latter. Carefully, Hinahoho opened the door without knocking in order to avoid disturbing his friend’s sleep. There were two beds in their room (due to his size Hinahoho had to sleep on the floor) and Sinbad had occupied the one near the window. Hinahoho tiptoed next to his sleeping comrade and tilted his head. Numerous bandages were covering Sinbad’s body but only a few of them were in sight since the purple-haired man was lying under a pile of blankets. Hinahoho pressed his massive palm against the younger man’s forehead only to notice that Sinbad’s fever hadn’t gone down at all, which wasn’t exactly a surprise considering the fact that even 24 hours hadn’t passed since that nasty fight. Sighing in worry, Hinahoho pulled back and went to grab his pillow and blanket on the second bed. “Good night, Sinbad”, the Imuchakk warrior whispered before laying himself down on the wooden floor and making himself as comfortable as he could. They had been through a lot and needed some proper rest before even thinking about upcoming adventures.

A couple of hours later Hinahoho’s slumber was interrupted by his sudden need to go to pee. Grumbling, the gigantic man stood up and trudged out of the room, failing to notice Sinbad tossing and turning in his sleep. After relieving himself Hinahoho returned to their room, yawning loudly and rubbing his eyes while tottering across the room as quietly as he could. Suddenly, Sinbad reared up with a pained scream, scaring the heck out of Hinahoho who, after collecting himself for a quick moment, turned around and hurried to his friend’s bed. “Sinbad? What’s wrong?” the older man asked, frowning in a stricken manner. Sinbad was sitting crouched, clutching onto his left leg violently. His chest was heaving in step with his heavy, wheezy breathing and the look on his face was so terrified and distraught that Hinahoho couldn’t help flinching a bit. He had never seen Sinbad like this.

Sinbad appeared to notice the other man’s presence as he turned his head slowly to face the Imuchakk and mouthed some words Hinahoho wasn’t able to hear before collapsing back onto the bed. Concerned and unsure about what to do Hinahoho only stared at his friend for a short moment until he realised that doing something, anything, was better than just sitting there without saying a word. Gently, he grabbed his sick friend and helped him to get into a laying position, which was a bit difficult as a result of Sinbad still clutching onto his leg ferociously. Hinahoho had to disentangle the younger man’s fingers off his leg one by one until Sinbad finally gave up and agreed to lay still. “Let’s try again. What’s wrong?” Hinahoho asked, pulling the covers back onto the shivering patient. Sinbad glanced at the warrior with his feverish, half-lidded eyes and mumbled something, but this time as well Hinahoho wasn’t able to understand what he said. “Sorry, could you repeat that? I know it must be tough for you since you’re sick and all, but—“ the Imuchakk stated, but was cut off when Sinbad finally managed to express himself. “…mare… Had a nightmare”, the younger man mumbled, blinking a couple of times in order to stay awake. “…felt awfully real.”

It sure must have since Sinbad had reacted so strongly. This was the first time Hinahoho had seen the purple-haired youngster so frantic. Usually one did not witness Sinbad showing any signs of fear, sadness or vulnerability – heck, those words didn’t even seem to belong to the same sentence as Sinbad’s name. Despite his young age Sinbad was a strong, reliable leader blessed with a healthy amount of self-esteem and optimism; he rarely showed any signs of weakness. At the moment, however, Sinbad was far from his usual self. Hinahoho couldn’t help wondering what had happened in that dream that had made Sinbad so upset. “Do you wanna talk about it?” the giant suggested calmly, leaning back against the wall behind him. Sinbad opened his mouth but a sudden coughing fit prevented him from speaking and left him breathless for a while. Hinahoho waited patiently without saying anything for he didn’t want to hurry his ill friend up. A few minutes later Sinbad finally took a deep breath and opened his mouth. “I want”, the feverish dungeon capturer sputtered, his face scrunching up in pain, “ _I want my dad_.”

Hinahoho was dumbstruck. Sinbad never talked about his deceased father. There had been only one time when Sinbad (while wasted) had revealed his past to his comrades, nonetheless very bluntly. Hinahoho felt sorry for the poor youngster for losing both of his parents in such an early stage of his life, but since Sinbad never talked about them Hinahoho just brushed it off, thinking that maybe his friend had gotten over it. Now he felt foolish for assuming something like that – it was painfully obvious that Sinbad was still suffering. Here and now, the dungeon capturer looked incredibly fragile lying underneath that pile of blankets and his current expression was very familiar to Hinahoho – his own children always looked like that whenever he was leaving for an adventure. In other words, it was an expression that belonged to a child missing his parent so much that it hurt. “It hurts. It’s so cold. I’m scared. I want my dad”, Sinbad whimpered, looking so desolate that Hinahoho just couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed Sinbad’s hand, put his elbows on the bed and pressed his forehead against his fists. “I’m sorry”, the Imuchakk warrior whispered. “I had no idea you were suffering this much. You must be missing him a lot.” “I don’t have many memories about him anymore”, Sinbad replied quietly. “…forgotten… …so much… …too much. I was so young.” Hinahoho nodded in understanding. “He did so much for me. I wanted to help him out but he never let me”, Sinbad said, and the expression on his pale face turned into a mixture of affection and pain. “I just… I just wanted to do something for my Daddy who only had one leg, but… …in the end I couldn’t do anything…”

“That’s not true”, Hinahoho reminded. “I’m sure you were his pride and joy. A father loves his children unconditionally and your father surely was no exception. I bet that if he saw you right now he’d be… well, _worried_ of course, considering your current state, but also proud that you’ve made it this far. You’re such a bright lad.” The Imuchakk warrior reached out his hand to ruffle his friend’s purple locks affectionately. Bit by bit he was gaining more confidence about how to act in the current situation. It had been easy to switch into his role as a father now that Sinbad was craving for parental affection and care he usually never got. Of course, Hinahoho’s children were still mere toddlers whereas Sinbad was only six years younger than him, but somehow the situation didn’t feel awkward at all. Hinahoho was glad to be able to support and comfort his friend like this since usually it was Sinbad who stayed strong when others were feeling down and brought light into their personal darkness.

Hinahoho’s words seemed to have an impact on Sinbad since the purple-haired man’s face scrunched up in grief and he curled up into a tight ball under the blankets. Despite the fact that the younger man pressed his face firmly against his knees Hinahoho could hear the quiet sobs escaping from his lips. The giant pressed his hand against Sinbad’s back, starting to stroke it in a comforting manner. Fate had been awfully cruel to this boy; it had blessed him with strength and fame but also tormented him with loads of loneliness, losses and insecurity. It was only natural for Sinbad not show any signs of vulnerability since for a long time there had been no one to comfort him during a moment of weakness. Now it was different. Quietly, Hinahoho started to hum a song he sang to his kids whenever putting them to sleep. It was a sweet, comforting tune that had been used as a lullaby for numerous generations by Imuchakk mothers and fathers. Hinahoho’s mother had sung it to him, and now that he’d continued the tradition with his own children he might as well sing it to Sinbad too since even though the dungeon capturer wasn’t a kid anymore he was definitely in a need of comfort and sleep. Hinahoho’s voice filled the quiet room and the giant could feel his friend relaxing as the lullaby went on. Nevertheless, he kept singing and stroking Sinbad’s back until the song was finished. By then, Sinbad had calmed down completely and wasn’t sobbing anymore. Hinahoho lifted the blankets a little bit so that he could see his friend’s face; Sinbad looked like he was ready to fall asleep any moment. Noticing the giant’s actions, Sinbad opened his golden, glazed eyes slightly and offered the older man a weak smile. “Please don’t tell… the others about this”, the dungeon capturer whispered, struggling to remain awake. “I don’t want them to… ever see me like this.” “I won’t”, Hinahoho promised. “Now, get some rest, will you? Yeah, that’s a good lad.” " _Thank you_ ”, Sinbad whispered before his eyelids drooped and he fell asleep again. Hinahoho tucked him in properly, ruffled his hair once more and then returned to his “bed” across the floor. The Imuchakk warrior had made up his mind; no matter how much he loved his wife and kids back in his home village, he knew that he would stay by Sinbad and the others’ side and help Sinbad make his dream about founding a country come true.

That night was the last time Hinahoho ever saw Sinbad act so fragile and vulnerable. The purple-haired youngster grew up to be a powerful, influential man with armies of both followers and enemies, and people from all over the world either praised or cursed him for his strength, skills and wit. After so many years of going to adventures and achieving new things Sinbad had changed a lot and learned to hide his true colours behind a strong, shining shell most people couldn’t distinguish from his personality. People thought of him as the almighty High King of the Seven Seas but Hinahoho was the only one who knew the truth – for one night that powerful king had been just a lonely child missing his late father and letting his weak side show just like a normal person.


End file.
